


Fear of Self

by sunstarunicorn



Series: It's a Magical Flashpoint [43]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fallout and Consequences, Gen, Involuntary Shifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-07-29 09:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20080108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: Jules hit the nail on the head that night.  Greg’s afraid of his magic and he has been for quite a while.  But his fear of magic has only made magical control harder to grasp and Greg’s gryphon side, having had a taste of freedom, isn’t about going to go down tamely.





	1. Waking Up Gryphon

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the forty-third in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows "Riddle of the Gryphon".
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_, _Harry Potter_, _Narnia_, or _Merlin_.

One eye opened lazily and Greg shifted on the sofa bed, yawning as he pushed himself up. Judging from the light coming in the windows, he’d slept through Ed’s departure for the station, but he wasn’t worried about that, not after the events of the day before. He stretched, enjoying the lack of pain, either from his injured wing or the ache of bones forcibly broken and restructured. One day to kick back, then he’d be back on the job and he could start putting the whole gryphon mess behind him.

Greg rolled his shoulders, grimacing internally at the pop and crackle of joints that had spent far too long in one position. A sound from behind him brought him around quizzically, then he froze, staring in shock at the human-sized eagle wing in his vision. He snapped his head the other way to find another wing and, even _worse_, they responded to his attempt to move them, flaring out proudly. Yelling in shock, Greg fell sideways and found out the wings weren’t the _only_ thing he’d acquired in his sleep; his fingernails were as sharp and tough as eagle talons and they cut right through the air mattress beneath him.

Parker ended up toppling off the bed, pure dismay filling him as the mattress squealed and deflated. Frantically, he checked for any _more_ gryphon traits and found out his feet had, at some point, shifted to lion paws. A careful check revealed that his teeth had sprouted lion fangs and he was reasonably sure his eyes were eagle-like as well. _What the…I thought I didn’t _have_ enough magic to shift!_

“Greg? Are you all right?”

Sophie. Greg sank down, the wings on his back wilting as he waited for Sophie to get a good look at him and what he’d done to her sofa bed. He swallowed, wondering if he could even speak…wouldn’t _that_ be _just_ perfect. As if to complete his humiliation, the air mattress announced its death with a final _hiss_ of escaping air.

* * * * *

Sophie heard Greg’s yell from the kitchen as she gossiped with Shelley; Greg’s two rascals alternated between looking on and reading their books. Alanna had her nose in an arcane looking tome, while Lance was avidly exploring the pages of a programming book as he made notes on whatever he was trying to do in a notebook.

Frowning, she headed for the living room, calling, “Greg? Are you all right?”

Then she stepped into the room and spotted her husband’s boss at once…and the _wings_ on his back; both man and wings looked utterly woebegone as the air mattress hissed beside him. Sophie gasped, one hand flying up to her mouth, and Greg wilted even more, looking as if he wanted nothing more than to disappear into the floor.

In addition to the wings, his eyes looked odd and his teeth were quite clearly sporting a set of predator fangs. Sophie was reasonably sure Greg hadn’t _bitten_ the mattress, so there was obviously more she wasn’t seeing yet. She walked around the sofa bed to see her guest better and nearly gasped again as she took in his hands – human except for the tips of his fingers, where they turned into _claws_.

“Greg, what _happened_?”

He swallowed hard, looking down at the floor. “I don’t know.” Relief showed on his face, something Sophie didn’t understand; she looked him over again, one brow arching. He coughed at the look on her face. “Wasn’t sure I could talk.” Hurriedly, he tacked on, “I woke up like this, Sophie.”

Woke _up_ with _wings_ and fangs and claws? Sophie was completely appalled and it showed in her expression. Greg actually whimpered and tried to curl up, almost like a cat. That brought his feet into view and Sophie’s horror reached new heights; they were _lion_ paws. How on _Earth_ were they supposed to change him back? And if he was transforming in his sleep, how did they make it _stop_?

“How were you sleeping?”

Oh, thank heavens. Sophie turned to look at the teenager, who didn’t look all that bothered by the sight of his uncle in a half-human, half-gryphon state. “What?” Greg questioned from the floor, peering up at his nephew.

“Were you sleeping on your side? On your back?”

Greg frowned in thought and his wings flicked, just a touch. “On my stomach.”

“Big no-no, there, Uncle Greg,” Lance chided. Casually, the teen pulled his wand and waved it at the air mattress with a quiet, “_Reparo _**(1)**.” The rips in the mattress’ surface knit together and vanished; the mattress reinflated and rose to its prior position. Looking down at his uncle, the brunet elaborated, “You slept like a gryphon would sleep, Uncle Greg. That was probably the most comfortable way to sleep, but the surest way for an Animagus to wake up in their form is to sleep like the animal does.”

“I didn’t.” _Wake up in my form._

Lance smirked. “You don’t have enough magic to fully shift on your own,” he countered. “Otherwise, yes, you _would_ have woken up as a gryphon.”

A growl rose from the Sergeant as Lance met his eyes and unabashedly flaunted his superior knowledge and magical ability. Rather than back down, Lance’s expression turned bored and he inspected his nails, flicking a microscopic piece of lint off them. Sophie’s expression was disapproving at Lance’s lack of care for his uncle’s state.

“Change me back.”

Lance looked up, a smug look still on his face. “You already _know_ how to shift back,” he retorted, his gaze intent. “And you need practice in controlling your magic, anyway.” Parker’s growl grew louder. “Case in point,” Lance observed to the air. “If you had your magic under control, you wouldn’t be growling at me right now.”

Sophie jerked in surprise and Greg’s growl cut off instantly as they both stared at the young man. “What?” Sophie questioned.

Lance met her eyes. “An Animagus form is part of our magic, whether it’s Wild or Latin magic. Some of the traits always carry over, that’s kinda part of the deal, but most wizards with Animagus forms don’t wake up in their forms ‘cause they’ve learned how to _control_ them. And their magic.”

Sophie didn’t think the emphasis on ‘control’ was an accident, but she knew better than to say that as Greg started growling again, his eyes narrowing in anger. Lance appeared unconcerned, but now that Sophie was watching him, he was very alert to his uncle’s position, expression, and the tension humming in the air. As she continued to watch the young man, he gestured for her to back up and away from the sofa bed.

“Change me back,” Greg demanded again.

Lance turned his head towards his uncle; teenage arrogance coated his stance and his response. “Do it yourself.”

Greg lunged, his eyes going feral and wild; a gryphon snarled and the Sergeant froze as he found himself practically nose to beak with a nearly full grown gryphon that was _very_ unimpressed with him. Parker scrambled back and out of range, but Illishar simply swished his tail and shifted back to human.

“See?” The arrogance and goading were completely gone as the sixteen-year-old knelt to look his uncle in the eye. “You lost control until you were _scared_ enough to get it back.”

Greg panted, staring at his nephew in pure betrayal.

Lance shook his head. “You _can’t_ be scared of your magic if you want to control it. _You can’t._ It doesn’t work like that, Uncle Greg. Either _you’re_ in charge or _it_ is. And you can’t control your shifting until you control your magic. It’s as simple as that.”

“How did you know I was afraid of my magic?” Greg rasped, the wings on his back rattling as they shook right along with him.

“Uncle Ed told me before he left this morning,” Lance replied simply. He drew in a breath. “I wasn’t lying. You already know how to shift back to human, Uncle Greg.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you _do_. I taught you, remember?”

Greg shook his head silently, but Sophie wasn’t sure if that meant he didn’t remember or if he was still in denial over having to control his magic himself. Tentatively, she asked, “Couldn’t you just shift him back now and work with him later on control?”

“No, I can’t,” Lance refused. “This _needs_ to be dealt with now, _today_, or it’ll just get worse and worse.” He looked his uncle in the eye. “I’m willing to help you work through this, but it _has_ to be _you_ who controls your magic, not me and not ‘Lanna. And we’re not getting off square one until you get over being scared of your magic.”

Sophie watched as Greg gulped and huddled up, the wings on his back rattling with the same fear written all over his face. He looked miserable and more than a bit hopeless, as if the idea of controlling his magic was an impossible dream, but Sophie couldn’t for the life of her understand _why_. Why was he afraid of his magic? What was different between _his_ magic and the magic his _nipotes_ used every day?

Lance surveyed his uncle’s response, sorrow lurking in his gaze. Then those same eyes hardened and he turned, walking away without a qualm or hesitation. Sophie followed him, upset on Greg’s behalf. How could he turn his back on his uncle?

“What are you doing?” Alanna demanded as soon as her brother reentered the kitchen and sat down again. “Aren’t you going to help him?”

“When he wants help,” Lance replied, flipping through the book.

“He wants help _now_,” the redhead retorted.

“No,” Lance drawled, stretching the word out, “He wants me to make it go away. But it’s not going to go away and you know it. Until he actually wants _help_, I’m not going in there again.”

Alanna fell silent, a sure indicator that Lance was correct. Sophie cleared her throat, drawing their attention. “Why is he afraid of his magic and not yours?”

Lance paused, then closed the programming book and set it aside. Turning on the stool, he met Sophie’s eyes seriously. “Uncle Greg has never seen either of us struggle to control our magic or our Animagus forms. We might struggle with spells, but never with control.” He shook his head. “But _that’s_ because we’ve been learning how to control our magic _all our lives_.”

“He’s never had to before,” Alanna agreed in the background. “Lion’s Mane, he didn’t even know about magic until we came here.” Sorrow shone in her eyes. “But we _did_ come and Wild Magic doesn’t keep to itself. It’s more like a cat: it curls up and makes itself at home and it sheds _everywhere_.”

“We could find any one of you blindfolded,” Lance picked up again. “ ‘Cause our magic’s left traces of itself around you. And guess who we spend the _most_ time with.”

“Greg,” Shelley whispered. Twin nods. “So, let me get this straight. Your magic…made his stronger? Just by being around him?”

Lance sighed to himself. “Yes and no. There’s more to it with Uncle Greg.” The women nodded understanding. “His last name might be Parker, but he still descended from our family; that gave him a Wild Magic core right off the bat, even if he’s Squib-born.” The teenager grimaced heavily. “All the magical trauma he’s been through made things worse.”

“His core coming apart,” Alanna muttered resentfully.

“Getting kidnapped to the Netherworld.”

“Halloween?” Shelley inquired.

The teens traded looks, then Alanna replied, “_Maybe_.” Her expression was rather skeptical and the girl swiftly moved on. “His stunt with Roy.”

“And last, but not least, getting forced into gryphon form.” Lance’s face was sour. “I’d say the last is a big part of this situation. Sure, he’s been picking up a few gryphon traits, but when he was forced into his form, his magic got a taste of what it’s been missing.”

Sophie considered the situation carefully. “So what now?”

“Now we wait,” Lance murmured, his eyes turning towards the door. “He has to want help before I can help him. Even when he gets to that point, I can’t help if he won’t face his fear and work to control his magic.”

“What do you mean?” Shelley demanded.

But Lance did not reply. He simply gazed through the door, unhappiness in his posture and a tension none of the women understood in his face.

[1] Latin for ‘to renew’


	2. Conflict and Escalation

Greg could hear every word from his spot on the Lanes’ living room floor. He winced at the brief catalog of the magical trauma he’d been through in the three years since his _nipotes_ had come to Toronto, but it was Lance’s quiet summary of how he, Greg, saw his _nipotes’_ magic that struck home with a vengeance. Lance was right, though how he’d figured it out was a puzzle, since Greg couldn’t have articulated it himself.

He _did_ see his niece and nephew as in control of their magic, so he wasn’t afraid of it at all. Even during the times when it had _seemed_ completely out of control, he’d had faith that, at the end of the day, they knew what they were doing and their magic wasn’t _really_ out of control at all. But for _himself_, it felt like he spent half his time fighting for a semblance of control and the other half _losing_ that flimsy hold on his powers. Couldn’t control his ‘team sense’, couldn’t control his vision or hearing, couldn’t control his instincts, and _now_, couldn’t control his shifting either. What a lovely list of failure.

His wings curled around his shoulders and he hardly noticed the grumbling of his stomach as misery enveloped him. In his mind’s eye, he could see himself facing off with his gryphon side…and losing. How his nephew expected him to control a _wild animal_, he didn’t know. And if the gryphon was impossible to control, the idea of controlling his magic was laughable…he’d _never_ been able to control it, why would that change now?

He had to, though…he couldn’t live like this; he was a walking violation of the Official Secrets Act right now and _darn it_, he wanted his _life_ back. He wanted his _team_ back. Suppressing his magic, Greg knew, would lead to nothing but trouble, so that was right out. No, he realized morosely, control was his only route, as impossible and unlikely as it seemed.

Grimly, the Sergeant focused on his hands first, trying to imagine them as human again. Nothing happened. Confused, he tried again, sternly visualizing _his_ hands, not fingers tipped with eagle talons. Nothing.

“You need to use your magic.”

Greg yelped, jumping in shock; Lance had snuck up right next to him.

Amusement flashed, but Lance didn’t say anything about Greg’s surprise. Instead he leaned closer. “You’re halfway there, but you need your magic to actually shift.”

“Okay?”

The teen reached out, touching Greg’s shoulder. A thread of golden magic jumped the distance between them and seemed to light up an internal well of scarlet power. “That’s your magic, Uncle Greg,” Lance explained.

“Now what?”

“You just need a little,” Lance coached. “The first couple of times, Dad told me to visualize a little spark before I tried to use my magic.”

“A spark?”

“Yeah, he started by teaching me the fire spell,” Lance confirmed. “But _you’re_ going to take that little spark and try to shift your hands back again.”

It was _hard_, particularly when he tried to visualize the spark and his hands at the same time. The magic felt slippery, like an eel, and it didn’t seem to _want_ to shift back to human. Nor did it seem happy to be losing any independence, even to its owner. Sweat trickled down Parker’s forehead as he kept trying, over and over again. Frustration spiked higher with each failure and he was just about to give up when that spark of magic somehow stayed in his grip and the eagle talons _blurred_ and were gone, replaced by _normal_, _human_ fingers.

“You did it!” Lance cheered quietly while Greg stared in astonishment. “Now the rest.”

“The rest?” He knew he was whining, but he couldn’t quite help himself.

Sympathy flashed, but Lance didn’t relent. “Yes, you’ve got to do the rest, Uncle Greg.”

His nephew coached him through getting his feet back to normal, then making the wings blend back into his back. Lance briefly called a halt to the proceedings as he departed to fetch a mirror, but then he was right back and cracking the whip; Greg struggled and strained to get rid of the lion fangs and eagle eyes, eventually succeeding. Rather than feeling triumphant, Greg just felt wrung out and exhausted.

“It’ll get easier,” Lance reassured his uncle.

“That’s what you said about my gryphon instincts,” Greg grumbled.

“I know.” Calm and without a shred of concern. Anger flickered under the surface of Greg’s exhaustion. “Once you get your magic under control, the instincts will be easier to handle, too.”

Anger was still stirring, but Greg cast his nephew a bewildered look.

Lance sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They go hand-in-hand,” he elaborated. “The gryphon’s part of you, part of your magic. As long as you aren’t controlling your magic, you aren’t controlling the gryphon either.” A cunning glint shone in sapphire eyes and he dangled a carrot. “If you get your magic under control, you might be able to stop using your ‘team sense’.”

“How’s that?” Greg questioned, hope warring with discouragement.

A shrug. “If you control your magic, you won’t _need_ the ‘team sense’ to control your gryphon senses.” Challenge glittered. “Of course, _first_ you have to control your magic.” Lance cocked his head to the side. “Think you can manage that?”

The tone was goading and Greg stiffened, his instincts reacting to the implicit challenge of his authority. As before, his nephew didn’t back down. In fact, Lance’s expression turned even more insolent and dismissive.

Greg growled lowly in his chest, trying to put the fledging back in his place, but the fledgling openly rolled his eyes, producing a ball of light that he started playing with as he turned his back on Greg. Anger morphed into outrage and Greg felt…odd…for an instant, right before everything seemed to snap back into place again. He was caught off guard enough to look down and he froze, staring at his hands, which once again sported talons. Parker glanced to the side, unsurprised by the wings, then down at his feet to see lion paws. He shivered; his back felt a bit cold and he wondered, vaguely, how well his shirt was holding up after two partial shifts in less than four hours.

That was when Greg realized his state was starting to feel _normal_ and alarm cut through the gryphon instincts enough for his more human ones to reassert themselves. Lance was looking at him again, sorrow and determination mixed together on his face; anger surged up again, why had his nephew _deliberately_ provoked him? He glared back, feeling a low, furious snarl building up as his hands clenched and talons cut into his skin.

“What’s going on in here?”

The stand-off was broken as the two jerked around to see Clark Lane standing there.

* * * * *

Clark stared at Sergeant Parker, shocked by the wings, the teeth, and the paws he could see on his father’s superior officer. The young Lane resisted the urge to back up and pretend he’d never entered the living room in the first place, particularly with the glare that Parker was giving Lance. Lance’s expression was resigned and he didn’t even react to the glare he was getting.

“Hi, Clark.”

“Hey.” Clark shifted back. “I can leave …”

“Nah, you can stay if you want. Just working through a few issues.”

Clark could see that, but curiosity grabbed hold. “I thought your uncle didn’t have much magic.”

Lance looked down at Sergeant Parker, unwilling to respond without permission. Parker didn’t look happy, but he didn’t argue either.

“He doesn’t, which makes things a bit harder,” Lance replied. “Have to finesse things a bit more, but we’ll make it work.” There was no doubt in his friend’s voice and Clark couldn’t help but notice that Parker didn’t look _nearly_ as confident of the outcome.

“Is that what you were talking to my Dad about this morning?”

“Kinda, sorta. Related, but not _exactly_ what we were talking about.”

Oh. Clark mused over that response. “So, how _did_ you know?”

“Know what?”

“I heard you. You told my Dad you already knew…”

“You _knew_?” Sergeant Parker demanded sharply.

Lance winced; licking his lips, he confirmed, “Yeah, Uncle Greg, I already knew.”

“_How_?” Betrayal and fury mixed in the word.

Clark backed up, wondering if he could make it to the door before Parker exploded.

Lance was pale, but resolute. “Your magic told me.”

“My magic _told_ you? When?”

“When I pulled it off of Roy,” Lance explained. “It knew you were afraid of it and it didn’t want to make things worse.”

Clark swallowed as the tension in the room doubled. “Make. Things. _Worse_?” Parker bit off each word, a feral rage growing as he stared at his nephew.

“We _needed_ Roy’s help, I didn’t have a choice.” Aching sorrow and regret coated both the teenager and his words. Parker stared at Lance, not moving, just waiting. “My magic…made yours stronger…”

“Stronger.”

The word was flat and beyond enraged. Clark edged back, wondering if he should run or if that would just draw Sergeant Parker’s attention to him.

Lance braced himself, meeting hazel eyes that were barely even human anymore. “Yes.”

Clark broke and ran as Parker lunged, going straight for Lance’s throat.

* * * * *

Lance _blurred_, shoving back as his uncle attempted to bowl him over. Instead, Illishar pinned the older gryphon to the ground, snarl-hissing as he snapped his wings out and asserted his own dominance. His uncle refused to give up, talons raking against Illishar’s legs, but not doing a lick of damage. He’d pinned the other so he couldn’t use his paws – or the claws hidden inside them – but, still, this wasn’t a situation he’d _ever_ wanted to be in.

Illishar arched his neck and voiced an eerie growl-trill, demanding that his opponent surrender. If he could _just_ establish dominance and get the gryphon to _submit_, then maybe he could still salvage the situation. He knew, perfectly well, that his uncle couldn’t live like this, couldn’t live at the beck and call of his gryphon side. _Something_ had to give and if that meant playing the bad guy, then he could live with that…it was better than the alternative.

* * * * *

“Mom!”

Sophie’s head jerked up as Clark raced in. “Clark?”

Clark panted, his eyes searching the kitchen. “Sergeant Parker. He snapped and went for Lance.”

“_What_?” Alanna demanded.

“It’s my fault,” Clark babbled. “I just wanted to know what Lance and Dad were talking about this morning.”

“Oh, Aslan,” Alanna whispered. “Uncle Greg found out?”

“Found out what?” Sophie snapped.

Alanna gulped. “When Lance got Roy out of the time freeze, he did it by taking Uncle Greg’s magic off of Roy and carrying it _himself_. That’s why his eyes were so weird and he couldn’t use his magic at _all_.”

Shelley buried her face in her hands, realizing what _else_ that meant. “He made Greg’s magic stronger, didn’t he.”

Alanna nodded silently.

“Were you going to tell him?” Sophie questioned, her tone acid.

“Lance said he’d handle it,” Alanna deflected. Then she hugged herself. “I bet Lance wanted to wait until Uncle Greg had his magic more under control, though. Oh, Aslan, what a mess.”

“Mom? Where’s Izzy?”

* * * * *

Isabel Lane gurgled as she crawled into the living room in search of something new to do. She looked up at the big thing in her path and babbled to herself as she picked up her butt and crawled around it. A waving thing caught her eye and she stopped, watching as it flicked up and down. And there were sounds coming from where the waving thing was!

Curiosity surged in the baby and she continued forward until she reached where the waving thing was. It paused close to her and she giggled, reaching up to pull on the thing and maybe chew on it.

* * * * *

He fought the fledgling’s hold, refusing to give up, refusing to back down. But the younger gryphon was stronger than he was, hardly even expending any effort at all to keep him in his place. He bared his teeth, but the fledge snorted in disdain at him. Slowly, it was beginning to dawn on him that his authority had been based _solely_ on the fledgling’s respect for his human side. On the fledge’s refusal to humiliate his weaker, pathetic human half.

It was intolerable! What did his _human_ have to offer that he didn’t? The _human_ feared him, as if he was a _threat_ to his human! All he’d wanted was for his human to accept him, _use_ him. He hadn’t wanted the fledge to strengthen him and make things worse!

He growled a demand to be let go, but the fledge just shifted positions, keeping him pinned.

Then a sound reached his ears: a giggle and gurgle. He twisted to look and saw a little tiny human right by the fledgling’s tail. The fledge was focused on him and hadn’t heard the small one. The human reached up and he froze in horror, his human side telling him what was about to happen. _No._

The fledgling squalled in shock and surprise as one of his tail feathers was yanked on. Reflexively, he shifted, starting to step back. The gryphon under the fledge’s talons screeched warning and _moved_. Somehow, he twisted the fledge sideways and away from the human. The fledge cried out as he slammed on the ground; miraculously, his wings extended and weren’t broken by the maneuver.

The little human giggled and gurgled as his human side took control again, horror and terror filling him as Greg stared at little Isabel Lane, who was completely unaware how close she’d come to being crushed under a gryphon’s paw. Then he heard a gasp and looked up, dread filling him as behind him, Lance _blurred_ back to human.

Sophie Lane had seen the whole thing.


	3. Unforgivable?

First, the gawd-awful evaluations that his team hadn’t deserved, evaluations that had been intended to bring _him_ down. Then Eddie had gotten _shot_, in part because Toth had ripped into his team leader without a shred of consideration or care. His fault. If he’d been a better Sergeant, a better _friend_, then he wouldn’t have left all that ammunition for Toth to find.

After _that_, he’d nearly ripped Wordy to pieces and had him for dinner. Why had he even let Ed and Jules talk him into thinking that _maybe_, just maybe, that hadn’t been his fault? They were wrong, it _had_ been his fault. Because right here, right now, he’d lost control _again_ and Ed’s infant daughter had come within a hairsbreadth of getting hurt…because of _him_. Because Lance had been forced to use Illishar in self-defense against his own uncle. _His_ behavior had caused this, all of it. How could either of his _nipotes_ trust him again after he’d attacked his nephew, _completely_ unprovoked?

Well, he wasn’t going to let it happen _ever_ again. He wasn’t going to put anyone he cared about at risk, _never_ again. Greg focused and magic that had been nearly impossible to grasp slipped into his grip easily as he forced himself back to human. He saw Sophie’s eyes widen in shock, but he didn’t wait for her to speak, didn’t wait for her to order him out of her house. He already knew what he’d done was beyond the pale, it _couldn’t_ be overlooked or forgiven. Not this time.

Greg knew his team leader’s house well enough to retreat backwards and duck out the back door before anyone could speak – or stop him. Once outside, he shivered; his shirt was badly ripped after the two unexpected wing…eruptions. It didn’t matter though; he could get back to his apartment, ripped shirt or no ripped shirt. Without looking back, Greg slipped out of Ed’s backyard and jogged towards the street.

* * * * *

Lance watched as Aunt Sophie scooped up Izzy, cooing to the infant, and felt a surge of resentment towards the little girl. _One_ more minute, maybe two, and Uncle Greg’s gryphon side would have submitted to him. He could’ve laid out terms, making it crystal clear to the gryphon that it could either play ball – so to speak – or he would _deal_ with it. Things wouldn’t have been perfect, but with the gryphon cowed, it would have been _so_ much easier to handle the rest.

And given how rebellious and wild the gryphon’s behavior had been, Lance was starting to suspect that it _would_ take another gryphon forcing it to submit before any real progress could be made. Either that or putting his uncle in a situation where his level of fear stayed high enough, long enough, that he could get his magic under control. It was _far_ from ideal and Lance hated the very thought, but most of all, he was angry at himself for letting things get to this point.

If he’d taken the time, _months_ ago, to teach his uncle how to control his magic, then maybe it wouldn’t have come to this. But he hadn’t realized how _afraid_ his uncle was of his own magic, not until he’d freed Roy from the time freeze. By then, it had been far too late to correct the situation; even if he _could_ have kept his uncle’s magic longer than he had, it was impossible to teach magical control _without_ magic.

Lance kept his mouth shut as Aunt Sophie swept out of the room, her anger and upset tangible in the air. The situation was _his_ fault, not his uncle’s. He didn’t think Aunt Sophie saw it that way, though, and Uncle Greg _definitely_ didn’t see it that way. _They_ saw Izzy’s near injury, not the chain of events that had led up to it. Not the careless disregard of a Wild Mage who darn well _should_ have known better.

“Lance?”

“ ‘Lanna, I screwed up,” Lance admitted openly as he started to push himself upright. “This is all my fault, I shouldn’t have left Uncle Greg struggling to figure things out by himself.”

Alanna opened her mouth to rip into her brother, then stopped. Everything she could say was already written all over his face, he was blaming himself more than she ever could. “Can you fix it?” Alanna asked gingerly.

Fearful sapphire eyes turned to her. “I don’t know.”

* * * * *

Ed closed his phone, trying to control the parental rage coursing through him – and failing. Izzy, his daughter, the joy of his life, nearly _killed_ because Greg couldn’t get a grip! He’d been understanding, but this was too far! He couldn’t, _wouldn’t_, sacrifice his family on the altar of Protecting Greg Parker. No, now he’d changed his mind; he’d take the sergeant chevrons and Greg could go to hell for all he cared!

“Ed?”

Slowly, Ed turned towards Wordy, his face expressionless.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was Soph.”

Alarm flared on Wordy’s face, but the brunet constable didn’t speak.

“Greg _lost_ control again, Word. Lance had to go full Illishar to keep him from hurting anyone.”

Wordy swallowed hard, but waved Ed on.

Ed gritted his teeth, wishing, bitterly, that none of this had ever happened. “Izzy got close and I guess she pulled on Illishar’s tail.” Wordy’s eyes widened in horror. Ed turned away, unable to look his best friend in the eye as he recounted the rest. “Illishar almost stepped on her.”

“Is she okay?”

Ed nodded once. “I’m done, Word. My _daughter_ almost got _hurt_ because he can’t get a grip! That’s _all_ he had to do. Get a grip, get back to _normal_.”

Wordy was silent, then he swore softly. “What are you gonna do?”

“I’ll tell Holleran what happened. Greg can retire or something. But I’m not losing my family, Wordy. I’m _not_. I’ll transfer out before I let that happen. It’s _him_ or me.”

They both knew who Holleran would pick: Ed had stepped up and taken on the job of Sergeant without a hiccup while Greg had had problem after problem ever since the psych evals. Before even. Add that to Greg’s history and Ed was a shoo-in.

“What do we tell the rest of the team?”

Ed paused, thinking that over. Then he looked at Wordy. “The truth. Our team is built on trust, I’m not gonna wreck that. They deserve to know why I’m not backing Greg anymore.”

Wordy nodded sadly. “I’ll help you, Ed.”

* * * * *

Jules watched in dismay as her team leader turned on her Sergeant. She _knew_ Sarge hadn’t meant to put Izzy in danger and, from what Ed said, _Sarge_ had been the one to keep Izzy from actually getting hurt. Didn’t that count for _anything_? Since _when_ was someone expected to get over a phobia in _one_ day?

And… She cleared her throat. “Ed? Where’s Sarge?”

Ed’s face turned shadowed. “Sophie said he split right after all this happened.”

“To where?” Jules pressed. When Ed didn’t reply, she gave him a glare. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Jules, he can take care of himself,” Ed retorted.

On a normal day, Jules would’ve agreed, but Sarge took his job, his team, and, most importantly, his _family_ seriously. He was probably blaming himself for everything that had gone wrong in the past _year_ and he was all alone. Ed wanted Sarge gone, _fine_. He was entitled to think that, but he _wasn’t_ entitled to leave Sarge hanging like this!

Spike and Lou looked worried about the Sarge, but Izzy’s near miss was a shadow hanging over the room, silencing their usually enthusiastic defense of their Sergeant. Wordy loomed in the background, his jaw set with that stubborn twist to it. No help there.

“Ed, could you at least wait until Sarge checks in?” Jules pleaded.

Ed’s expression spoke volumes of his reluctance, but, as Jules refused to back down, he nodded once. “Then I go to Holleran.”

The sniper/negotiator’s heart sank. She’d won the battle, but it was at the expense of the war.

* * * * *

Once he’d arrived at his apartment, the Sergeant worked quickly: changing his shirt, nabbing a bite to eat out of his ‘fridge, and getting everything arranged. He hadn’t reverted to his partial gryphon form since leaving Ed’s house, but it was likely only a matter of time before the magic built up and forced the change again. He needed to be done before that happened, because once it _did_, it was anyone’s guess who would end up hurt or even _dead_.

The fruit he grabbed for his late breakfast tasted _wrong_, but he forced it down anyway. He was _human_, for crying out loud, not _gryphon_. Greg made a face as he washed the fruit down with milk, but otherwise refused to give ground to the instincts beginning to clamor in the background, loudly objecting to his plans. He looked around his apartment, checking over his arrangements and making sure there were no obstacles, just to ensure he’d covered all his bases. This had to go as smoothly as possible if he wanted to keep his team from getting hurt – again.

When he was satisfied he’d done all he could, Greg nodded to himself and returned to the kitchen to pick up his phone for one last message. He bit his lip, debating who to send it to, then decided and typed it out swiftly, sending it on its way with one final tap. When he was done, he set the phone down on his table and left the room.

* * * * *

“Jules.”

Jules turned, for once not excited to see her boyfriend. “Sam?”

He thrust his phone at her and she took it, confused. Then she saw the message on it. “No.” She looked up at the blond. “No, please, no.”

“We’d better get over there.” Sam’s voice was grim and full of dread.

“No, we have to show Ed.” Without waiting for an argument, Jules headed straight for the briefing room. As she burst in, she nearly shouted, “Ed!”

“Jules, what is it?”

“Sarge,” she panted, thrusting Sam’s phone at the team leader.

Ed took the phone, stared at the message, then swore and slammed past her, yelling, “Team One! Hot call at Sarge’s place!”

Jules scooped up Sam’s phone and ran after Ed, glancing down at the message again.

Sam, it’s all at my place  
It was an honor

* * * * *

Wordy was carrying the ram, just in case, but the door was unlocked; the team burst in, yelling their Sergeant’s name as they hunted through the small apartment. They didn’t find the missing Sergeant, but they did find a shirt with multiple holes ripped in its back in the bedroom. Jules was no expert, but it looked to her like Sarge had probably switched to one of his older, less expensive shirts…there was a gap in his closet, right at one end of his shirt hangers. She fingered the damaged shirt, wondering what had caused the rips, but set the mystery aside in favor of the search.

In the kitchen, they found Sergeant Parker’s badge, unloaded gun, phone, and car keys, all in a neat pile. Three white envelopes sat on top. One of them was clearly marked ‘Resignation’ and the other two had Ed and Wordy’s names on them.

Jules stared at them, tears filling her eyes; Sarge hadn’t waited for Ed to get him booted out of the SRU. Or maybe he’d decided he was too dangerous to be around…which was stupid, it really was. _All_ of them were dangerous – they were SWAT cops, dangerous was part of the job description. No matter _how_ bad it got, Jules was confident her team could handle whatever Sarge threw at them, so why was he cutting and running? And why was she starting to think Ed’s description of how Sarge had ‘lost control’ was missing a piece or two? But even her burgeoning questions paled in the face of the empty apartment, leaving one key question hanging over all of them.

_Sarge, where are you?_

* * * * *

Greg stepped off the Knight Bus at his destination, not even looking back as the vivid purple double-decker bus took off with a squeal and a _bang_, vanishing off to its next stop. He looked around, unsurprised by the lack of traffic and headed into the woods. Slung over his shoulder he had a small backpack, packed with extra clothing and bottles of water. He had no idea how long this was going to take or even if his idea would work, but he wasn’t leaving until he’d done what he’d come here to do.

He wasn’t leaving until he was _sure_ he wouldn’t hurt anyone ever again. And if he couldn’t be sure? Well, then he wouldn’t be leaving at all.


	4. Resignation and Retreat

“Car’s still in the parking garage,” Spike reported as he came back into Greg Parker’s apartment. “Looks like he hasn’t driven it since before we got arrested.”

Ed nodded without looking up from the letter Greg had written to him, his Sergeant’s handwriting almost a scrawl instead of its normal precise neatness.

_“Ed,_

_I’m sorry for putting your daughter in danger. I shouldn’t have done that and I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. I don’t expect you to trust me ever again after this, so I want you to have the team. You’ve had my back through thick and thin, Eddie, and you’ll be a great Sergeant for them. I’ve put a good word in for you in my resignation; get that to Commander Holleran, please._

_With me gone, Toth should get off your backs or at least ease up a bit, so take care of yourselves and keep on keeping the peace. Don’t look for me, Ed; I’ve got something I need to do. I promise I’m not suicidal, but I’m not going to be a threat any more, either._

_When I’ve got myself straightened out, I’ll be in touch. Whatever happens after that is up to you, Ed. If you don’t want anything to do with me after all of this, I’ll respect that._

_Greg”_

The letter crinkled a little in Ed’s grasp and the team leader looked over at Wordy; his best friend’s expression was angry and upset. “Wordy?”

Without a word, the brunet thrust his letter at Ed and stalked away, slamming his fist into the kitchen wall before he left the room. Ed shook his head, then looked down at the letter and scanned it quickly.

_“Wordy,_

_I should’ve had your back at McKean and I didn’t. That’s on me, Wordy, not you, and I’ll have to live with what I did to you. I’m just grateful I didn’t go any farther than that._

_From what I saw yesterday, you’re doing a great job as the acting team leader; I knew you had it in you. Sam’s got a natural gift for leading, but you’ve got the steady hand he hasn’t quite developed yet. Ed’s going to be your new Sergeant and I know you’ll back him up just as well as you have me._

_I am going to need to call in those arrangements we made a while back, though. The kids are all yours, Wordy. You’re the best option for them, at least until Lance hits 18. I’ll get in touch once I’m sure it’s safe for you and them; I’ve got to get a grip on this or I’m a threat to everyone I meet, Wordy._

_Greg”_

Ed swallowed hard, looking around the apartment. He set the letters down and picked up the resignation letter, opening it up without a qualm. It wasn’t sealed, so Holleran would never know that he’d looked. The team leader scanned through the letter; it was much more formal than the letters to himself or Wordy. Resigning, effective immediately, and Greg would be in touch if Holleran deemed him to be at retirement age. Otherwise, Greg was surrendering whatever retirement benefits he might have gotten. Which begged the question: what was Greg expecting to live on when he got back from wherever he’d disappeared to? And why was he preemptively surrendering benefits he’d _earned_?

The team leader read through the letter again, absently noting the recommendation Greg had promised he was going to give, but the brevity of the letter and the troubling surrender of benefits bothered Ed. This wasn’t right, Greg had _earned_ a respectable retirement and he shouldn’t be surrendering it over _one_ misstep. No, this smacked of guilt and self-hatred, and of a man who wasn’t thinking straight at all.

* * * * *

Jules’ searching had revealed another troubling aspect of the current situation; Sarge had taken a small bag with him and what he’d packed in it was an open question. He had _not_, however, packed anything necessary for a long stay. No razor, no soap, no shampoo; either Sarge was expecting his destination to have all the amenities or he didn’t _care_ about the amenities.

Sam found her as she was hunting through the bedroom for her boss’s spare gun. “Sam?”

The sniper shifted uncomfortably. “What’ve you got?”

Jules backed away from the closet, hefting a gun case. “If I’m lucky, Sarge’s backup.” She set the case on the bed and held up Sarge’s key ring before trying keys until she found one that worked. The case opened smoothly to reveal a nestled weapon, gleaming in its padding.

“So he’s not armed.”

That was a relief; given Sarge’s likely mental state, Jules had been worried he’d left his service weapon out as a red herring. Turning her attention fully to Sam, she questioned, “What’s up?”

“I’m getting a Darren Kovacs flashback,” Sam replied, frustration and old pain flashing across his face.

Jules frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I think the Boss is acting like _I_ did after Kovacs forced Ed to shoot him,” Sam explained bluntly. “You guys didn’t let me fall on my sword or quit, even though I wanted to.”

“So we shouldn’t let Sarge fall on _his_ sword?”

A grim nod. “He’s not thinking straight, Jules. I bet all he sees right now is that he almost hurt Izzy and he needs to keep that from happening again.”

“I think you’re right,” Jules whispered. “Last night, it took both me and Ed to talk him out of quitting SRU on the spot after what happened at McKean.”

“Dang,” Sam hissed. “I forgot about that.”

“Sarge hasn’t.”

The blond shook his head, ignoring Jules’ sarcasm. “We’ve got to find him, Jules.”

“How? He left his phone and his keys behind.”

Sam frowned to himself. “We could get the kids,” he offered.

“Sam, I bet he’s already thought of that. He _knows_ they can track him, so he’d go somewhere where even _they_ couldn’t find him.”

“Behind wards,” Sam muttered resentfully.

Jules sighed to herself. “That still leaves a lot of ground to cover, Sam.”

The sniper paced back and forth in the bedroom. “Not necessarily,” Sam remarked thoughtfully. “Boss knows once the kids are past whatever wards, they can go straight to him.”

“He does?”

“Yeah,” Sam confirmed. “Yesterday, as soon as we were though those Unplottable wards, Sarge was able to pin down your location. Spike had to stop him before he went charging through the potions camp.”

“And the kids have the same type of magic,” Jules concluded, earning a nod. “So he’d go somewhere they wouldn’t go, somewhere that still has wards, but not wards that they’re likely to cross.”

“Somewhere he doesn’t expect _anyone_ to go,” Sam added. At Jules’ quizzical look, Sam reminded her, “Jules, he thinks he’s a threat to any one he meets. He’d want to avoid all human contact.”

“Where does that leave us?” Jules questioned.

Sam froze. “The potions camp.”

“What?”

Excited, Sam turned towards her. “Jules, think about it. Wards, so the kids can’t find him. Not many people know about it and most of them are locked up now, so he doesn’t have to worry about someone stumbling across him while he’s in there, and he knows where it is, so he doesn’t have to waste time searching for a place to hole up.”

“Weren’t they planning on bringing down the wards around there?”

“Not until they get all the potions cataloged and removed,” Sam countered. “That’s going to take at least another week to do. And the camp is big enough that Sarge can just hide if he hears someone coming in.”

Jules considered her boyfriend, thinking hard. After a few minutes, she nodded. “I buy that, Sam. And he was _just_ there, so he probably thought of that first when he needed a quick place to hide out in.”

“Do we tell Ed?”

Jules shook her head. “No, Sam, let’s find him. Then we can figure out a way out of this mess.”

Without a word to their teammates, the pair snuck out of the apartment and raced for their truck. They never noticed two figures watching and listening from just outside their Sergeant’s bedroom door.

* * * * *

Spike and Lou traded looks, then the latter headed after Sam and Jules while the former angled back towards Wordy and Ed. The bomb tech halted as he overheard Wordy’s angry tones in the next room.

“What’s it gonna take, Ed?” Wordy demanded loudly. “I _told_ Sarge I didn’t blame him for what happened. I _told_ him it wasn’t his fault!”

“And he believed you, Wordy,” Ed replied firmly. “No, Word, he did,” the team leader insisted when the brunet started shaking his head. “Otherwise he would’ve stayed holed up in that dusty storage room he found.”

“So why’s he apologizing for something that _wasn’t his fault?!?_” Spike edged out of sight as Wordy turned towards Ed. “And why’s he trying to get me to take the kids?”

The bomb tech stiffened in alarm, but the team leader wasn’t caught off guard. “Because he’s Greg Parker.” Ed’s voice was etched in acid and sarcasm over a meter deep. “He’s decided that he’s a threat, so he’s trying to protect _us_ from _himself_. If the kids go to you, then they won’t be here, with _him_ anymore.” Lane moved away from Wordy and Spike risked a peek in the room, wondering if he should break into the conversation. Then Ed spoke again. “Not sure I disagree with Greg on this one. I wouldn’t want Izzy or Clark near me if I thought I could hurt them.”

Silence rang and Spike mentally gulped. “What are we going to do now?” Wordy finally asked.

Ed snorted. “He left behind anything we could use to track him. Pretty safe to assume that he’s found a way to keep the kids from finding him, either.”

“So that’s it?”

“Wordy, what do you want me to do?” Ed questioned, his words tired. “He’s resigned, he’s not our Sergeant any more. He doesn’t _want_ us to follow him.”

“And he almost hurt Izzy,” Wordy finished, his voice just as tired.

Ed nodded; Spike stared at the two resentfully. They were giving up? Just like that? He stepped into the doorway and indignation drenched his voice. “He wouldn’t leave you two behind.” They whirled, surprised he’d been listening. “Even if you guys wanted to leave, he’d make sure you were safe, no matter what it took,” Spike snapped, crossing his arms. “We owe him that much.”

Into the silence, Scarlatti added, “And who says he _wants_ to leave SRU? Maybe he wrote that letter ‘cause he thought he _had_ to, that we wouldn’t want him anymore. Maybe, _this_ time, he needs _our_ help to get his head on straight again.” Spike pointed towards the kitchen. “If Sarge was thinking, he wouldn’t have made his text to Sam sound so final.”

“He would’ve known how’d we take it. He would’ve known we’d panic,” Wordy murmured. His eyes shifted to their team leader. “Ed, if Sarge is at the end of his rope, then maybe today wasn’t as bad as we think.”

“He almost hurt Izzy!”

“But he didn’t,” Wordy argued. “Ed, think about it. Pretend it’s a subject, not Sarge. Pretend it’s a guy out on a ledge; he’s not thinking straight, doesn’t see the big picture.”

The bald man stalked away, indignation written all over his movements. Then he stopped, reaching out to pick up a picture of the whole team, taken at their last Christmas party. Spike was fairly sure it was the shot Sophie and Shelley had insisted on, the team and the team _alone_, rather than trying to shove all the team ‘dependants’ into the frame.

“Ed?”

Ed didn’t respond as he stared down at the picture, his face blank as he used his sniper training to mask his emotions. After a long minute, he looked over at his teammates. “What happened to him?”

Wordy and Spike traded confused looks, not quite sure what Lane was asking.

Frustration rang. “What happened to the Greg Parker who negotiated his way through everything life threw at him and never gave up?” Ed elaborated. “He didn’t give up on ‘Lanna when she was in the hospital, he almost _never_ gives up on a subject, and he didn’t even _hesitate_ when Roy was dying. What happened to him?”

Wordy shook his head, mystified, but Spike just cocked his head to the side, thinking. “Ed, all of that…it’s _other_ people.”

“Spike?”

“Remember how he described himself in McKean?” the bomb tech asked. His teammates stilled. “Over a _decade_ and he still calls himself a broken-down alcoholic,” Scarlatti continued, anguish on his face. “Doesn’t even flinch, it’s like it’s just a fact of life for him.”

Ed swallowed hard. “The hardest person to forgive…”

“Yourself,” Wordy finished.

The team leader straightened to the task, finally onboard. “Okay, we need to find him, _fast_.”

“Um, we might want to just follow Jules and Sam,” Spike offered. “Lou’s following ‘em right now…they took off in a hurry about ten minutes ago.”

“Ten _minutes_ ago?” Wordy barked.

Spike didn’t flinch. “So they should’ve hung around until _you two_ were ready to go?”

“Enough,” Ed intervened, stalking towards the door. “I’ll lock up.”

“Ed, what about the letters?” Wordy asked.

The team leader paused, then detoured towards the kitchen. “Get going, I’ll catch up.”

“Yes, _sir_,” Spike called back as he headed for the door, texting Lou for his position as he went. The response hiked his eyebrows, then Spike yelled, “Got a location!”

“Good,” Wordy rumbled. Then he reached out and pulled Spike to a stop. “Spike? Thanks for smacking some sense into us.”

“Any time, buddy.”

Wordy grinned back and pushed Spike forward again. “Let’s move.”

“Copy that.”


	5. Won't Let You Fall

Sam and Jules made their way through the potions camp, towards the cliff their Sergeant had jumped down the day before. One thing they hadn’t thought of was how to find the missing man in a camp that covered well over two kilometers of forest, assuming they were even in the right spot and not just spinning their wheels, but the cliff was a place to start. Quiet, set away from the camp, and it would be easy to see – or hear – people coming…perfect for a man trying to isolate himself.

The blond sniper, in front of the brunette, spied their quarry first and froze in his tracks.

“Sam?”

Mute, Braddock pointed and Jules peeked around him, stifling her gasp. Parker was sitting right near the edge of the cliff, close enough that he only needed to take a step or two forward to topple off the side. The pair already knew that a fall from that height would be deadly. Without saying anything to each other, they backed up until they were well out of earshot.

“He’s right on the edge, Sam,” Jules whispered.

“I know,” Sam agreed unhappily. “We need to get below him, but he’ll hear us if we try.”

“Negotiating?” Jules suggested. “I could distract him while you get in position.”

Sam shifted back on his heels. “The negotiating would work, but we need another person for that kind of maneuver, Jules. There’s only two of us.”

“Three.” The two constables jumped and whirled, gaping in shock at Lou; the tan-skinned less-lethal specialist smirked at them. “What’s our plan?” he asked, casually dropping the climbing gear bags in front of his teammates.

* * * * *

Greg shuddered as he looked at the edge less than two steps away from him. Funny how he was banking on his fear of heights to help him with his fear of his magic. Forcing his gaze away from the edge, he reached down and yanked on his shoelaces, pulling his shoes off as well as his socks. If he lost control again and shifted, at least he wouldn’t wreck his shoes and socks in the process. He tucked the socks inside the shoes and nudged them towards his backpack.

He was reaching for his shirt when he heard someone behind him and shot upright, turning to see Jules edging closer to him. It took a moment to identify the expression on her face, then he winced internally. She had her negotiator mask on. Calmly, Greg pulled his own negotiator mask into place. How his former team had found him so quickly, he didn’t know, but now he had to convince Jules to walk away and leave him alone.

“Julianna.”

“Hey, Sarge.”

“Is something wrong?” Greg asked, crossing his arms and doing his best to look like he was in control, that he knew what he was doing, even as part of him demanded that he get away from the edge, _now_.

Jules returned his look. “How about you tell me, Sarge. What are you doing here?”

Greg considered her; he could guess what she was thinking, but he _wasn’t_ suicidal. Not yet. “I’m trying to get something done,” he replied, knowing his answer was vague, but not really caring any more, either. He’d resigned, he wasn’t her problem anymore.

“What?” Jules pressed.

Irritation rose and Greg looked away, straining to control his temper. It shouldn’t _be_ this hard; he was a negotiator who’d spent _years_ controlling and channeling his emotions. Deliberately, Greg shifted his gaze just enough to see the nearby edge and fear drowned out the irritation, forcing his gryphon side down again.

“Sarge?”

Parker flicked a look at her. “This is something I need to do, Jules,” he informed her, letting a touch of ‘I-don’t-need-help’ into his tone.

“What, scare yourself to death?” Jules demanded. “What’s that going to do?” When he didn’t respond, the brunette pleaded, “Sarge, whatever’s going on, we can help. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“Yes, I do,” Greg informed her flatly. “I’m sure you already know what happened at Ed’s house this morning.”

“I do,” Jules acknowledged quietly. “But it doesn’t matter, Sarge. You didn’t hurt her.”

“But I could have,” Parker countered, a trace of his usual intensity reappearing. Gryphon instincts stirred and Greg cringed, darting another look at the edge. His gryphon side retreated again as his fear of heights clamored for his attention. “I could have, Jules, and I can’t let that happen again,” he asserted, meeting his former constable’s eyes.

“Sarge, you haven’t even been back to being human for a full _day_,” Jules argued. “I know it’s hard, but it’s going to get better. You just need some time and practice, that’s all.” He stared at her, unconvinced. “Sarge, we still trust you,” Jules added. “Now come on, let’s get out of here and we can start figuring things out.”

“I’m not leaving. Not until I get a grip on this,” Greg snapped. Yet again, his feral side stirred. “Jules, you need to go. I’m not safe.”

Jules met his eyes. “Sarge, as long as _you’re_ staying, so am I. I’m not going to leave you alone to deal with this.”

His shoulder blades started to itch and Greg hurriedly looked behind him at the edge. The gryphon fell back, but not as much as before. Gritting his teeth, Greg shifted back a half-step; his panic rose and the gryphon instincts vanished.

“Sarge!”

“I know what I’m doing, Jules.” His voice was deadly calm, in direct contrast to his churning emotions. “You need to go.” He looked her in the eye. “Before I hurt you.”

“Sarge, you _won’t_ hurt me,” Jules argued. “You didn’t hurt Izzy and you didn’t hurt Wordy; that’s two for two in my book. Now, _please_ Sarge, get away from the edge.”

Stubbornly, Greg shook his head as the instincts started up again. Grimly, he focused on the edge, struggling to keep his feral half down and locked up. He tuned out Jules’ pleas as the internal fight continued, the gryphon clawing free of its cage as Greg strained to use one phobia against the other.

Then another voice cut through his focus and concentration. “Greg!”

Startled, he turned, his eyes widening in shock at the sight of Ed Lane, only a meter away from him. Without thinking, Greg stepped back…and went off the edge with a surprised yelp. Wings erupted from his back, talons from his hands, his bare feet turned furry and lion-like…then his fall halted as Sam and Lou grabbed him.

“Boss!”

“Greg!”

“Sarge!”

From above, there was a scramble, then Ed, Jules, Wordy, and Spike were all peering over the edge, relief on their faces as they saw him. Greg cringed as his teammates looked him over, taking in the unmistakably gryphon features. Jules disappeared for a moment, but reappeared with his shoes in hand. “Guess that explains the shoes,” she drawled, gesturing at his feet with her free hand.

Morose, Greg nodded, his wings sinking down in embarrassment and shame since he couldn’t. Fortunately, Sam and Lou had managed to catch him by his shoulders instead of the delicate wings. Otherwise, he probably would’ve been stuck with the wings until they healed – again. Ed reached down, offering a hand, but the former Sergeant shook his head, spreading his fingers – and the talons mounted on them – in demonstration.

“Greg, stop being an idiot,” Ed chided. “I’ll grab your wrist.”

“We’ve got you, Boss,” Sam added, “We won’t let you fall.”

Greg debated with himself, then he closed his hands, careful to curl his talons into his palms, and reached up, letting Ed grab hold; Wordy grabbed his other wrist while Sam and Lou adjusted his position so that his lion paws were against the cliff face. Parker grimaced, but extended the claws to bite into the rock and give himself another anchor point. As he was hauled upwards, Spike and Jules grabbed his shirt and belt, adding their strength to the procedure.

Then it was over and Greg was lying on his stomach at the top of the cliff, panting for breath. His wings seemed to be panting, too; they rose and fell with each pant, twitching madly. He could hear Sam and Lou climbing up, detaching themselves from the climbing ropes, but he just stayed where he was. Jules had located the small backpack he’d dragged along, thoughtfully tucking his shoes inside the bag. Wordy and Spike were helping the climbers and Ed; Greg stiffened…Eddie was right next to him.

“I guess Soph left a few details out,” Ed drawled, reaching out and flicking one wing. “I thought you lost your temper or something.”

Greg curled the wings closer to his shoulders and awkwardly pushed himself up enough to face his former team leader. “No,” he replied quietly. Then he reconsidered. “Well, I might have. It’s hard to tell right now.” Hazel eyes fixed on the ground and Parker swallowed before shifting his hands back to normal. He turned his hands over, inspecting his palms and wincing at the cuts he’d inadvertently inflicted on himself.

Ed followed his gaze and reached out, pulling Greg’s right hand closer to himself so he could see the damage. “Don’t suppose that’s from the rocks.”

Greg shook his head without looking up. He shifted the lion paws back, then reached up, surprised when his fingers touched normal human teeth instead of lion fangs. He wanted to ask Ed if his eyes were normal, but his usual confidence and assuredness were long gone. That left the wings…which his former team was gawping at. The wings twitched as if they could sense his uncertainty and wariness.

“Hard to tell if you’re losing your temper or if your wild side is taking control?” Ed pressed.

The stocky man shivered without answering.

Ed sighed and Greg heard him turn away. “What did you think you were doing, Greg?”

Reasonably sure Ed wasn’t looking at him anymore, Greg stole a look up. Then he looked back towards the edge. “I thought, if I could keep the magic down long enough to figure out how to control it…” He trailed off, knowing how foolish that sounded in hindsight. And it hadn’t worked anyway; even before he’d toppled over, he’d been losing the fight against his gryphon side.

“What, scare yourself enough that the magic couldn’t come out?” Ed’s voice was skeptical.

“Something like that,” Greg whispered. The wings on his back flicked out, just a bit, then folded again. Drawing in a deep breath, Parker admitted, “Ed, I don’t know what to do. I can’t live like this, but I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Then let’s find a way,” was the practical reply. “ ‘Cause I’m sick of doing all your paperwork, Greg.”

Greg jerked in shock, forgetting his shame enough to stare up at his former team leader. The blasted wings flared out, demonstrating his surprise with crystal clarity.

Ed looked down, meeting his eyes. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled Greg’s letter of resignation from a vest pocket and ripped it in two. “Team One doesn’t need a new Sergeant, Greg. We’ve already got one.”

“Eddie, if you guys can’t trust me any more…”

The lean man crouched next to his friend again. “Was I mad when Sophie called? Yeah, Greg, I was. I was so mad I was going to go to Holleran myself.” Watching his boss’s gaze drop away, Ed drew in a breath. “I would’ve regretted it for the rest of my life, just as soon as I got home and your kids told me what _really_ happened.”

“I tried to _attack_ _mio nipote_,” Greg argued. “_That’s_ what put Izzy in danger.”

Ed shook his head. “Why’d you do it, Greg? Do you even know?”

No, he didn’t; he’d just been so angry and frustrated and…disdainful. Greg blinked, following that train of thought. It took a minute or two, then it clicked. His wings sank down, curling so close he could feel the feathers brushing his shoulders. His wild side _had_ taken over, shunting him to the side and reacting on pure instinct.

“Greg?”

Parker started shaking; his magic was angry at _him_, resentful that he wasn’t using it, that he was afraid of it. That anger had translated into disdain; his gryphon side saw him as weak and easily dominated.

“Greg?”

How was he supposed to fix this? How was he supposed to regain control when his magic had already decided he was inept and inadequate? And what would happen the _next_ time his gryphon side decided to come out and play? They shouldn’t have caught him; he should’ve just tumbled off that cliff…at least then the nightmare would be over.

“Greg!”


	6. To Tame a Gryphon

Spike wasn’t all that surprised to see the Boss’s kids packed up and ready to go when he arrived. They scrambled into the back of the truck without even calling a good-bye in Sophie’s direction. As the bomb tech put the truck in gear and headed back towards the forest preserve, he glanced back at the pair; he wanted a few more details, if he could get them, on what the heck had happened in the Lane household, but he wasn’t sure how to broach the topic.

“How is he?” Lance questioned.

Spike grimaced. “He’s not responding at all anymore,” the bomb tech reported grimly. “Ed was talking to him, then he just…shut down and started hyperventilating and…” He gestured helplessly. “When I left, everyone was taking turns trying to get through to him, but nothing’s working.”

“What about when you found him?” Alanna asked curiously.

Grimly, the bomb tech outlined what he’d seen as well as what Jules, Sam, and Lou had related afterwards. He’d been close enough to hear Sarge’s conversation with Ed, so he shared those details with the Calvin siblings without a qualm. Once he was done, Spike shifted back to the road, gripping the steering wheel as tightly as he could. “Can you help him?”

The silence from the backseat was not encouraging. Then Alanna verbally prodded her brother with an expectant, “Lance?”

Lance hesitated, then sighed. “He already tried one of my ideas,” the teenager admitted. “The other is more…extreme.”

“But it’ll work?” Spike knew he sounded pathetically hopeful, but he didn’t care. He just wanted something that would give his boss his _life_ back.

“Hope so.”

The rest of the ride was completely silent.

* * * * *

Lance sighed to himself, running a hand through his hair. Team One had at least gotten his uncle off the rocks and back onto solid ground. For all the good it was doing them. And even worse, Lance was pretty sure his uncle’s magic was starting to act up again, judging by the fact that hazel eyes were beginning to narrow in Uncle Ed’s direction and take on an inhuman glitter.

“Okay,” Lance decided. “Uncle Spike, I need everyone away from Uncle Greg. We need space if this is going to work.”

“How much?”

Sapphire eyes, already dark with fear, turned towards the tech. “You need to treat Uncle Greg like he’s a subject. And _don’t_ interfere, no matter what, understand?”

Uncle Spike looked unhappy, but Lance just hardened his expression. “Let me spell this out for you, Uncle Spike. Either Uncle Greg gets control of his magic or Uncle Ed takes over Team One. There is no in-between any more. So, I’m going to say this _one_ more time. No matter _what_ happens: Do. Not. Interfere.”

“Copy.” Uncle Spike headed over to the rest of the team, but Lance ignored the ensuing conversation. No, he stayed focused on his uncle, his eyes narrow and calculating. The irony was that when Uncle Greg had been _trapped_ in his Animagus form, he’d been able to control his magic without even thinking about it. But _now_, no longer trapped, he couldn’t, because both his mind and his magic saw his human side as separate and independent of the magic. The mind saw the separation as logical; after all, he’d lived most of his life without even being _aware_ of magic, much less trying to use it. The magic, wild and untamed, wasn’t able to understand _why_ Uncle Greg was afraid of it, _why_ he was pushing it away; for a gryphon, to protect meant knowing as _much_ as possible about who you were protecting. The concept of privacy was utterly foreign to the magic – and if Lance had to bet, it was the invasion of privacy that had formed the core of his uncle’s fear.

As Team One backed off, Lance stepped forward, meeting Uncle Greg’s eyes boldly and flaring his magical aura out enough to make it clear he was challenging the older gryphon. Uncle Greg tensed, then his eyes, teeth, hands, and feet shifted; the wings flared out as he scrambled up. Internally, Lance winced at the sight of those wings, particularly the bottom third of both wings, where they were twisted in an unnatural direction. Outwardly, he showed no such reaction; he tilted his chin up, disdain and as much arrogance as he could dredge up filling the air.

Not a single word was spoken, but the challenge was plain as day. When Uncle Greg didn’t move, Lance took a calculated risk, curling his lip in disgust and turning away. Then he _blurred_ and Illishar snapped back around to catch the surprise attack on his chest.

* * * * *

Jules nearly screamed when Sarge launched at his nephew, a feral inhumanity in his face. He showed no awareness of the fact that he was attacking his own nephew and for the first time, she understood why he’d been so insistent that she turn around and walk away. Ed and Sam’s faces were expressionless, but the rest of her team was easier to read; worry and distress shone bright, because the odds that they _could_ have their Sergeant back had just dropped to nil.

Regardless of anything else, they couldn’t have a Sergeant who went feral like this. They couldn’t have a negotiator who couldn’t even control himself. It wasn’t Sarge’s fault he’d ended up in this situation, but that didn’t make a difference; they _had_ to think about the people they were meant to help. They _couldn’t_ put _one_ man above their jobs, above their duty to protect and serve. No matter how much it hurt.

Then Sam’s eyes narrowed and a thoughtful expression crossed his face. Jules edged sideways. “Sam? What is it?”

“Watch,” Sam hissed under his breath. “I think this is gonna work.”

Confused, Jules looked back at the two figures in the center of the rough circle. “Sam, what are you talking about?”

“Just watch.”

* * * * *

The fledge’s wings spread outwards and he gave an eerie trill, demanding that the older gryphon submit. He hadn’t before and he didn’t plan to _now_; he growled and struggled, trying to find that frame of mind that had let him win the fight before. But there was nothing, no little nudge, no little hints from his weak, pathetic human half. And, once again, the fledge was holding him down in such a way that he couldn’t use his back paws for leverage. The fledgling lowered his head, snarl-spitting disdain.

He strained against the fledgling’s hold a few moments longer, then sagged, defeated. Resentfully, he turned his head to expose his neck.

** _You submit?_ **

He clenched his jaw. **_Yes._**

Satisfaction shone in the fledge’s eyes. **_Here’s how it’s going to work. You are going to let your human take control. You will submit to him, just like you submitted to me, or I will find a way to _end_ you, understand?_**

**_He is _weak_,_** the gryphon snarled back. **_Why should I submit to _him_?_**

**_Because I told you to,_** the fledge snapped, one forefoot pressing him into the dirt again. **_You submitted to me and now _I’m_ ordering you to submit to him._** For a beat there was silence, then the fledge pressed him down even harder. **_You don’t get to ruin his life; you don’t get to take his Pride away from him. I won’t let you. He’s lived this long without you and you are _my_ problem._**

Confusion surfaced. **_Why?_**

Sorrow and regret flashed. **_If not for me, you wouldn’t be strong enough to wreck his life. I’m the one who changed that, so that makes you _mine_ to deal with. And he’s stronger than you think he is._**

** _He fears me!_ **

**_That doesn’t make him weak,_** the fledgling countered. **_He fears you, fears his magic, because he hates hurting his friends and you made him hurt them._** The fledge’s tail lashed. **_So, hope you enjoyed today’s joyride, ‘cause it is over. Or else. _**The moment hung, then the fledgling let him up. **_Now let him go, before I lose my temper._**

* * * * *

Greg blinked as he found himself flat on his back. He sat up, then froze as Illishar turned to look at him. He’d lost control again. Illishar _blurred_ and his nephew was there, right there. Parker scooted back, trying to put some space between them.

“It’s okay, Uncle Greg.”

“I attacked you again,” Greg countered.

“Because I provoked you,” was the calm response. Greg gawped and Lance gave him a sheepish, unhappy look. “I messed up this morning,” Lance admitted. “What happened, it was _my_ fault, not yours.”

“If I hadn’t…”

Greg stopped when Lance held up a hand. The teenager shook his head. “Would you expect a civilian to know how to negotiate?”

“No.”

“Would you expect, oh, say, a computer geek off the street to do what Uncle Spike does?”

Greg choked on an involuntary laugh. “No.”

“Me either,” Lance confided. “Which is why what I did was stupid. I expected you to do something you’ve never been trained to do. Control your magic. On top of that, I also expected you to control your Animagus form…something you’ve never had to do before.”

Greg wasn’t sure he agreed. “I’ve been dealing with the instincts for months,” he pointed out.

“By suppressing them, I’d bet.”

Ouch. The Sergeant winced and nodded.

The teen sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, tomorrow we’re going to try all this again and I’ll start from square one instead of expecting you to know everything _I_ do.”

“And my shifting?” Greg asked uncomfortably.

“Sarge, your wings are gone,” Spike called from the sidelines.

His wings were… Greg twisted sideways to look, then looked down at his hands and feet. Snapping back to his nephew, Greg demanded, “What did you do?” He knew _he_ hadn’t done anything.

“I made the gryphon submit,” was the simple response. “Then I told it that today’s fun and games were over and it could either submit to you or I’d _deal_ with it.” One shoulder hiked. “The good news for you is it shouldn’t cause any more trouble for a while. That gives you some space to start learning magical control. It’s still gonna be in the background, though.”

“So I’m still a walking time bomb,” Greg realized, slumping down. He still had to resign and leave Team One.

“You resign and it’ll be worse,” Lance countered sharply, somehow knowing exactly what his uncle was thinking. “The gryphon sees Team One as its Pride. It takes protecting its Pride just as seriously as _you_ do, Uncle Greg.”

“It’s not up to me,” Greg decided after a minute of thinking that over. He stole a look at Team One. Reluctantly, he pushed himself up to his feet and turned towards the silent constables. “Guys, this one’s up to you.”

The six constables grouped together, speaking quietly. Greg made no attempt to eavesdrop, though he did let his _nipotes_ fuss over him a bit. He wasn’t sure which way he wanted his team to go, wasn’t sure what was _right_, but he didn’t want to lose his family.

For close to a half hour, Team One discussed the situation without interruption. Then Ed came over, his expression blank. “We’ll give it a try,” he announced. “But Greg, one more slip-up like today and I have to go to Holleran.”

“Understood,” Greg whispered, his eyes falling to the ground. “Ed, you should probably…keep the acting Sergeant position.”

“No, I shouldn’t.”

Greg’s head came back up, bewilderment in his eyes.

Ed’s blue eyes bored into his boss’s hazel ones. “Greg, _you’re_ our Sergeant. Maybe part of the reason your gryphon side acted up today is that you’ve been off-duty since we got back from McKean. Gotta give you the best shot we can.”

A slight smile showed. “And you’re sick of paperwork.”

Ed smirked. “Yep.”

The Sergeant shook his head, his smile growing. “Okay, Eddie, you win. I’ll be in tomorrow.”

“Greg?”

One brow went up as Parker waited for the punch line.

“Leave the wings at home.”

_~ Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And close...for now at any rate. I hope everyone enjoyed and, as always, I welcome and encourage comments of all shapes and sizes.
> 
> Now, we're all done with McKean and its aftermath (at least for the nonce), so we'll be diving back into some action as "Fallen Angel" kicks off on Friday August 23rd, 2019.
> 
> See you on the battlefield!


End file.
